Masquerade
by Sybil Rowan
Summary: Trowa goes on a mission to find out that Romefeller is not the only organization that has its eyes on world domination. This has Condor Joe in it so be forewarned it has a supernatural, ghost story element to it. Mainly, a strait forward spy story.
1. Chapter 1

Masquerade

9-18-2000

Description: Trowa goes on a mission to find out that Romefeller is not the only organization that has its eyes on world domination. This has Condor Joe in it so be forewarned it has a supernatural, ghost story element to it. Mainly, a strait forward spy story. I adore Condor Joe and wanted to write something where Trowa and he meet!

Warning: mild language, and a very.... very... light Gatchaman crossover. If you know nothing about Gatchaman you can still read this without confusion, but you'll enjoy it more if you do. Joe "Condor" Asakura is one of the characters that died at the end of the first Gatchaman series. He came back as a cyborg, but I leave it more like a ghost story. He can't die until he finds forgiveness in his heart for his parents.

Masquerade: Part One

Trowa unlocked the door to the townhouse and peered through the dim light cautiously. He slipped in, making sure no one on the busy street was paying too much attention. His relief was total, noticing he was the first one back. A moment of privacy was so rare, now that the war was heating up.

It had gotten so bad that he considered going undercover as an OZ solider again. He still had all of his credentials in order. He would have to ask for permission from Doctor S and get Quatre to plan around his absence, but the break from the other pilots was getting more necessary. The five of them were more irritable and prone to fights than when they first met.

He went to the room that he was thankfully sharing with Heero. The Japanese boy kept to himself, so he could relax a little. Trowa shut the door and put his things away quickly, so he could get a shower.

A knock at the bedroom door spooked him. He headed for his gun.

"It's me," a craggy voice that sound like Heero's called out.

"Come in," Trowa said.

Heero slammed open the door and stood in front of Trowa with the most swollen neck he had ever seen. He locked the door back and in a few minutes they heard Duo wailing after Heero as he started to pound on the door.

"Sorry, Trowa," Heero barely managed to croak out before he went to a trashcan in the corner and vomited for all he was worth.

Trowa opened the door and watched as Duo put his rucksack on Heero's bed while Wufei packed Heero's meager possessions. Duo looked up and gave him a sardonic glare. The American then trotted in and collected Heero off the ground.

"Time for bed, buddy boy," Duo said, hoisting Heero up.

"What's going on?" Trowa asked. Wufei looked up and gave him a smirk.

"Quatre and Heero caught the mumps. You'll be rooming with the idiot," Wufei said. Trowa cringed inwardly. Duo's hostility towards Trowa recently had been running high. The American had never really gotten over those first three encounters he had with Trowa. Not even Quatre's intervention had made a dent in his belligerence.

Trowa walked across the hall to where Duo was tending Heero, his unwilling patient. Quatre was sound asleep. He smirked thinking about how hard it was to wake Quatre up.

Last month's incident with Wufei and a pail of cold, lake water played through his mind. The four other pilots stood incredulous when Quatre half woke, rolled over, and went back to sleep drenched head to toe.

Duo tapped Trowa on the shoulder after Heero was on his way to sleep. He followed Duo to their room. He watched Duo plug up Heero's laptop while Wufei flopped on Duo's bed with a Chinese newspaper and his reading glasses. Trowa threw out the idea of relaxing for fifteen minutes and walked over to Duo.

"Okay, I've been thinking that we all put the missions into one big pile and divide them out three ways," Duo suggested.

"That's dumb," Wufei groused, not taking his eyes off his newspaper.

"Is not, you pompous ass. Besides, I don't hear you coming up with a better solution," Duo said. Wufei gave him a wry look and rolled over on his stomach unconcerned.

"It's not so bad, Duo. We need to rank everything in some sort of priority and leave the less urgent items for Quatre and Heero when they've recovered," Trowa said, taking a seat next to him. "My next assignment can be pushed back. Quatre can have it."

"Mine can't. I've got to be there tonight, Tro," Duo said. He nodded, ignoring the nickname. "What about you, Wu-man?"

"Wufei! My name is Wufei, idiot! Yeah, give me Yuy's assignment if Trowa's going to handle Quatre's."

The orders were given and the two shuffled around and left Trowa alone again. He looked at the new mission and shook his head. Quatre's assignment was interesting, to say the least.

He was to help two people defect from Duke Dermeil's court tonight at his Spring ball. A costume ball, to say the least. Trowa stopped himself from seeing what costume Quatre was going to use and turned to his own suitcase. He would just use his own clown suit and mask. He would feel more comfortable in it, anyway.

* * *

Trowa entered the ball with Quatre's invitation and Rasid to his left. He was acting as a bodyguard. Trowa wasn't surprised that the apathetic attendant didn't give him the once over.

He announced Trowa as 'Quatre Raberba Winner,' after tapping the marble floor with three loud whaps from his staff. Trowa hoped no one who had actually met Quatre would be here. The chance was slim enough for Trowa to make the gamble.

Rasid walked behind Trowa, ready to support him in any Winner knowledge if need be. Trowa had asked him along this afternoon, and he seemed more than happy to come along and complete the disguise. The little bit of Arabic picked up from Quatre would come in handy on this mission. Rasid seemed impressed with what Trowa knew.

"Mister Barton. Katerina Washio. A friend of Iria's who hasn't met Quatre yet," Rasid whispered. Trowa noticed the woman in an elegant swan headdress that gleamed in the soft light; she bounded up to him enthusiastically. She was Japanese, but had an Italian first name. Trowa found himself a little intrigued.

"Are you little Quatre?" she asked. Trowa nodded; she swept him up in an embrace. "Iria said you were growing into a handsome young man. It would be my luck that we meet at a masquerade."

"I haven't seen Iria in a while," Trowa replied.

"She's doing Space Trauma and Evacuation now. Actually, I admire her so very much. Her endless capacity to give is astounding," she said. Trowa nodded, vaguely familiar with Iria.

The Washio woman said, "I would like to make a donation to her services so tell her to see me as soon as possible. I don't have the fortitude for the work she does, but I would like to ensure it continues."

Trowa took the woman as being vapid, at first, but something didn't strike him as right. It was her athletic figure. She and Cathy were in identical shape. Cathy definitely could put a gold medalist to task. Trowa was sure the woman had the physical fortitude of a top athlete.

"I will let her know," Trowa said, as Washio-san lead him to the dance floor. Trowa listened to the high society prattle and glided with her around the dance floor. He kept looking for the subjects of his mission.

The elaborate costumes and rich music created a fairytale atmosphere as the vermilion dusk shown through the balcony's French doors. Trowa finally asked, "Do you know Doctor Blesh and his daughter?"

"Of course. Would you like me to introduce you? Beatrix is your age and is really attractive. Iria would definitely approve," Washio-san said.

"Well I would have to meet the young lady first," Trowa said, not wishing to get Quatre married off tonight. Besides, he knew that Quatre's sisters would probably arrange something for him when the time came.

"Good. There they are. Lets go!" she said. She lead Trowa off the dance floor to a pair dressed like Heide and her Grandfather.

After the proper introductions were made, Washio-san practically shoved him to the dance floor with the young, redheaded girl. She had a light sprinkle of freckles over her upturned nose. She blushed horribly as Trowa took her in his arms and guided her through the sea of people. He glance around and drew her a little closer.

"I'm here to help you and your father to defect. Be on the balcony at eight o'clock," Trowa ordered. Slight surprise crossed her face, then acceptance. She nodded and smiled up at Trowa.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"No. Everything will be self-evident when you arrive," he said, releasing her at the end of the waltz. He bowed slightly to the girl and then duplicated the gesture for Washio-san. He took his leave to rejoin Rasid, who had just come back from the balcony.

"Everything is in place, Mister Barton."

"Good," Trowa answered.

"I haven't seen mobile suits around. This should be very simple, Allah willing," Rasid said, handing Trowa some punch. "How are you enjoying yourself?"

"This is not my idea of fun, but it is interesting," Trowa said. He had to admit he had never seen such a display of wealth; all of it was so decadence. He kept his eyes moving so he could spot anyone remotely resembling a Romefeller spy or anyone paying too much attention Doctor Blesh and his daughter.

* * *

Two hours had passed uneventfully, but Trowa did gain a new perspective on Quatre. All of this decadence hid a very complex and jaded world. Rasid had introduced him to dozens of people who he could keep straight due to his training, in spite of his utter apathy. All of them tried hard to curry his favor by denouncing this group or gossiping about some person. Trowa utilized his strongest talents, patience and acting, to blend in.

The grandfather clock struck eight so he made his way to the balcony where Rasid had hidden a rope ladder behind several thick potted plants. He looked over to where the burly Arab waited below with a jeep. Trowa kicked the ladder over the edge and drug out the duffel bag Rasid had hid on the balcony while Trowa had danced with Washio-san.

"Mister Winner," a soft voice called from the French doors. Trowa beckoned the pair to him and handed them the spare costumes he was able to come up with. Cathrine was more curvy than Beatrix, but it was a close enough fit. The manager would be having a fit about now. Trowa figured the man was realizing he was minus one of his ringmaster's costumes about now, but he could make do. Trowa knew he would be lucky to have a cover job tomorrow with the ringmaster's blustery temper.

He helped the Doctor and his daughter down the ladder and followed. They got in the jeep and were about to take off when the Doctor grabbed Trowa's wrist and jerked Rasid's broad shoulder.

"Wait! Someone has substituted my formula. I have to go back or all this is for nothing," the man said. Trowa hopped out of the jeep and looked over to Rasid who gave him a disapproving look. He knew what Trowa was about to say.

"Get them on the shuttle to L-3. I'll catch up with you. Doctor, what room were you staying in?" Trowa asked.

"Third floor. It's the last room on the east side. The formulas were on a disk marked 'Fluffy's birthday.' I could have sworn I had them, but this isn't it," the man said.

"More than likely, they were stolen. Go, Rasid," Trowa said. "I've got to go back for that disk."

"Master Quatre will..." Rasid started.

"I'll what?" Trowa asked with cool, narrow eyes. He turned back to the rope ladder and started climbing it as the jeep pealed off in the distance.

* * *

Trowa realized why it was so easy to smuggle the scientist and his daughter out; they already had what they wanted from Blesh. He slipped into the room and effected a search. He was almost finished when a gleam by the wardrobe caught his eye.

He picked up the glittering white feather and replayed the insipid conversation he had with Washio-san. She told him she had just arrived at the party and didn't even have time to freshen up in the guest quarters.

Trowa tucked the feather away and rejoined the party to see the swan dancing with a jackal. He mingled a little and made his way to her side. Trowa politely cut in and started to waltz as he scrutinized the headdress.

"Little Quatre, I thought you had left the party with Blesh and his daughter," she purred. Trowa felt danger now. Her vapid look rolled back to reveal something more sinister on her elegant face. She smiled at him and asked, "Who are you really?"

Trowa observed several other costumed people paying them special attention. He was caught, but it was still a situation he could turn in his favor. She lead him off the dance floor and upstairs to Blesh's guest quarters. They were followed by three costumed people: a jester, a jackal, and a knight.

He took a seat on a small sofa as they crowed in and locked the door. The three men all eased up, figuring Trowa was outnumbered. She, in the meanwhile, packed a small overnight case. She took the disk and waved it under Trowa's nose; tempting him to grab it. The mercenaries that raised him had beat more discipline into Trowa than that. She lifted his mask off and studied his face for several, long minutes after she brushed his bangs back.

"You are an exquisite looking youngster," she said. She tossed the disk in the case and shut it. "So who are you anyway?"

"Nanashi," Trowa replied. Washio-san laughed at the only name he knew as a child.

"Well you must know the Winners. Are you working for them?" she asked.

"No. I knocked the silly blond fop over the head and left him in the woods six hours ago," he said, loathing the disrespect to Quatre. He knew it would look horribly suspicious if he didn't. She giggled at the picture he painted.

"You could be useful to our organization," she said.

"Sorry. I already have two jobs," Trowa replied.

"Well, suit yourself. Bring him," she ordered.

The knight grabbed Trowa by the arm and dragged him to the door. He figured they would try to extract information from him. Trowa had to stick with the disk and wait for his opportunity to escape with it. They ended up in the back of a limo; the knight, the swan, and Trowa the clown. The jackal and the jester were in the front.

"Do you know what's on that disk?" she asked. He shook his head and gazed at her through his heavy bangs. She then adopted a sardonic expression and said, "I guess you work for a group that doesn't believe in informing their inferiors. Do you even have a clue to what type of doctor Blesh is?"

"My orders were to smuggle him to a rendezvous point. Everything else is irrelevant," Trowa said in in his typical impassive fashion.

"Nothing is irrelevant, my dear. He is a chemist. A brilliant chemist who is working on a solvent so powerful that it would eat through Gundanium," she said.

He shook his head in spite of his alarm. Trowa glanced at the pink overnight case on her lap. He formed a plan, but he would have to be bold and reckless about it. She nodded to him and said, "That's what you were trying to liberate and deliver to OZ... or the Alliance... or whoever you work for."

"You don't work for Romefeller or the Alliance?" Trowa asked.

"No. My organization is the Red Impulse; we are the muscle for a group called the Crossbone Vanguard. We've been underground for over seventy years. Now is the opportunity for us to strike, when Romefeller is distracted and the space colonies are weak. With this, we will conquer the world and put the original Zabi royal family over the space colonies again," she said.

Trowa was dismayed. He knew the Crossbone Vanguard, but had never heard of the Red Impulse. He filed it away and focused on the task at hand.

He reached across her before she could stop him. He unlatched the handle and took her with him out the door. They hit the speeding ground and rolled into the bushes painfully hard.

Only his knowledge about absorbing falls kept them from severe injury. Trowa recovered first, Washio-san lay unconscious on the ground. He retrieved the night case and gun as the limo skidded to a halt and reversed. The knight began to fire a gun at him as he fled through the woods.

* * *

He tossed the CD in the air and shot it with Washio-san's gun. The shards glistened in a rainfall that drifted into the surf. He looked down at the dead body laying in the ocean wash.

The man's garish knight costume made him seem like something out of a bizarre nightmare. Trowa shook his dizziness off and went to lean against a tree where the sand and grass met.

He slowly lifted his blood-soaked, silk sleeve and looked at his right upper arm. The bullet had passed through. He didn't bother checking his other bruises and lacerations from the fight.

The limo came to his mind. He made his way up to the road. Trowa was dismayed to see Katerina Washio had disappeared. He scouted the limo out and drove. He began to feel fire spread towards his shoulder. He was starting to bleed again. He managed to make it to a nearby city he couldn't identify.

The city glowed with unholy fire as the population fled in terror. He couldn't bring himself to do anything except get out of the limo and collapsed on the shiny black hood. Trowa flipped over on his back as he began to calm his breathing. His wound began to throb and ache.

A green arch flashed thought the night sky as a rumbling shook new pain into his bones. Shimigami appeared in front of him with smoke curling around its sleek exterior. His eyes snapped shut against his will as all the noise faded away to darkness.

* * *

"Glad to see you're awake," Duo said, his indigo eyes shown brightly in the predawn light. He scooted closer towards Trowa and said, "I would have taken you to a doctor, but the whole town went up, thanks to five Taurus suits that got themselves perished when they met the God of Death."

Trowa looked around to see they were in a small tent; he could see the woods outside the open flap. Duo had him tucked in a sleeping bag. He realized he had some band-aids over wounds. He also realized that he was numb where there should be pain.

"What did you drug me with? Pain killers?" Trowa asked. Duo gave him a confused look.

"I figured you weren't as macho as Heero and would want something to take the edge off. You can thank me for everything later," Duo said. Trowa caught the hint of indignation in Duo's voice.

"Pain killers can throw a person off. I avoid them," Trowa said. Duo just blinked at Trowa for a couple of minutes and shook his head with a rueful smirk.

"You guys just don't know how to lay down and bleed gracefully, do you?" Duo smarted off. "I mean judging by the way you hacked up your wrist once before..."

"Duo!" Trowa snapped. He ran his left thumb over a thick jagged scar on his right wrist. Trowa fixed Duo with a firm gaze and said, "I'm not unstable. When I was fourteen I lost everything I had and I didn't want to deal with it at the time. I snapped out of it and cope very well now. All that you need to be concerned with is when our assignments overlap."

"Um, Trowa?" Duo asked. The American pilot rummaged through his med kit and held out a syringe with a common pain killer in it. "Are you sure you don't want any more?" Trowa nodded.

"Don't tell the others. Heero already knows, but Wufei wouldn't work with me anymore. Quatre's such a nice guy that he would worry himself over me and I don't want that," Trowa requested.

"What happened to make you try suicide?" Duo asked in hushed tones.

"I don't want to talk about it," Trowa said with a glare. Duo studied Trowa some more, but seemed willing to stay quiet.

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

Masquerade: Part 2

"I'm telling you what I saw!" Duo hissed. Trowa listened from the staircase to Duo's insistent voice. "Poor guy. Please don't get me wrong, but who really knows about him? He may have helped us out a few times, but who really knows? Maybe Wu-man has been right all along."

"Shut up, Duo. It's not like we have a detailed dossier on you either," Heero snapped. His voice was chilling in spite of the grogginess. "You exhibit all the signs of bi-polar disorder, but we still work with you."

"Please. We should respect Trowa's privacy," Quatre said in a matching scratchy voice.

"He could be dangerous to us. We need to keep an eye on him," Wufei said as Trowa proceeded to walk down the staircase and into the kitchenette. All four of them stared at Trowa with a variety of expressions on their faces.

Trowa sat at the table, nonplussed, and began to peel an orange. Wufei left for his private room, while Quatre went to make Trowa some pancakes. Trowa glanced over at Duo, who looked at his plate with an abashed expression. Heero got up from the table and turned to Trowa.

"I have a feeling you two need to talk. I'll go help Quatre," Heero offered.

"I'm really sorry! Please, Trowa, I told them because I was concerned for you..."

"You told them to take revenge on me for some reason you feel compelled to conceal from me," Trowa answered softly.

"Maybe. A little," Duo said, casting a look at Trowa cautiously. "But, at the time it seemed like they had the right to know. Now I see I made a great big mistake. I should have kept it under my hat. I'm really sorry."

"I admired the fact that you took the responsibility for gossiping. Minutes ago you made an argument stating that I'm not stable enough to be a Gundam pilot. Is that how you feel?" Trowa asked.

"I didn't think that it would really hurt the way they thought about you. I see I was wrong. I'm so sorry; you were right. Please forgive me," Duo pleaded. Trowa got up and limped back to the stairs.

"Trowa, please," Duo said.

"We'll talk after I've finished a new, personal assignment," Trowa said.

"Hey! You're wounded. You can't take another assignment," Duo said.

Trowa ignored Duo and went back to his room. He packed his belongings as Duo watched from the doorway. The American pilot's wide indigo eyes were filled with worry and guilt as he wrung the end of his braid. Duo said, "Don't leave because I have a big fat mouth."

"I'm not angry with you, Duo. There are things I've got to do, though. Tell everyone."

Trowa shifted the bag over his shoulder, fighting to stow the pain away. He pushed past Duo and walked through the living room. He noticed Quatre being restrained by Heero to prevent interference with Trowa's task.

He couldn't meet Quatre's bewildered look as the skillet with pancakes trembled. Trowa shut the door, knowing it would be a good thing to let them sort out their thoughts about his past. Meanwhile, he had the Red Impulse to investigate.

* * *

"_Washio, Katerina. Age 38, Japanese. Graduated from the New Tokyo Girl's Academy. Occupation, Industrialist. No search returned on 'Red Impulse.' Try a new search?"_

Trowa stared at the information on his computer screen and waited for the rest. Doctor S had urged him to investigate L-5's New Tokyo section for clues to this mystery woman and her organization. Trowa clicked on his dummy e-mail address and read the one entry.

"_The Washio girl disappeared at the age of sixteen and reappeared two years later as a contractor to some descendants of the Zabi family. It would seem that the Red Impulse is the muscle for a group called the Crossbone Vanguard who made some ruckus seventy years ago about putting the Ronah family, Zabi descendants, in charge of the space colonies.' _

"_It didn't work out for them. From there, I have no information until about two years ago. There was some interest in anti-Gundam strategies in the Crossbone Vanguard group. No solid evidence, but I believe that the Red Impulse was agitating most of it. Within the last six months, we have seen four Romefeller executives die of suspicious causes. It's all very strategic to their cause.' _

"_Find the Washio woman and eliminate her, because we have enough to believe her to be the leader of the Red Impulse. I don't have to stress to you what a horrible blow to the space colonies it would be if a super solvent for Gundanium was created. Stop them at all cost, Trowa,"_ Doctor S's email flashed.

Trowa typed in his assent and started his own research with limo rentals, school records, and the Washio family name.

* * *

Trowa had never been to Quatre's home world, but it was magnificent. The Winner's family home colony was an opulent world. He walk through one of the massive public hanging gardens and found a horse head fountain with a statue of the Greek god Pluto.

He leaned against the rail and waited for his meeting; his thoughts turned to L-3. He missed space as badly as Duo, but chains kept pulling the five Gundam pilots back to Earth.

Katerina Washio leaned against the railing of the fountain beside Trowa and smiled. She wore a lime green sun dress with oversize sunglasses that didn't quit hide a bruise on her high cheek bone.

"You've reconsidered my job offer? How do I know you won't have a change of heart?" Katerina asked.

"Yes. I want to defect from OZ and I'll deliver something you'll want. You looked over my file and confirmed everything?" Trowa asked, referring to the faked OZ files he had once submitted to Lady Une.

"I did. Our man in OZ confirmed that you were a top pilot until you were lost on the battlefield. He also was able to provide me with the last copy of the Gundanium solvent on a CD. I was annoyed at you for causing me such an inconvenience. Since I was able to get another copy of the disk, I'm inclined to consider your proposal. So what do you have to offer me?" she asked.

"A Gundam and its pilot," Trowa said. She turned to Trowa and leaned close enough for him to smell her lilac perfume and stale tobacco. He watched her delicate eyebrows quirk upwards. He looked away from her eyes and said, "Me."

* * *

"She'll need some work, but she's magnificent," Trowa said. He had always considered the Vayeade in feminine terms, unlike Heavyarms. She required a lighter touch and was quicker by far.

He found a slight flutter in his stomach at the thought of rebuilding her. A twinge of excitement he didn't expect. He also began to delve into his hazy memories of Colonel Une. He flinched back, realizing he missed her too. She had valued him, and he had responded to her more than he realized.

Trowa tried to concentrate, but guilt started to nag at his mind. He was using the Vayeade for a kamikaze run. Disposable. Just like the mutual respect and esteem Colonel Une and he had shared. He felt as though he was something to be despised, hiding behind a mask and toying with people. He did it for the space colonies, because his morals and wants were of less value.

"How much work?" Washio-san asked. He refocused on his shuttle piloting.

He had told Washio-san about the failed OZ Gundam projects Vayeade and Mercurius. He told her how he was hand picked by Lady Une to run both Gundam projects. He related the surface story without the background about Heavyarms, or that he knew Quatre and Heero. She didn't need to know exactly how treacherous he could be.

Trowa had told her he was loyal to OZ because he thought they were going to liberate the space colonies, but he reconsidered because space should be ruled by 'spacenoids.' He claimed that he was quietly discharged because of his failure.

Doctor S had arranged his records to cover his story, to make it look as if Lady Une herself had discharged him. It all looked too dramatic for Trowa's taste, but it gave him a great excuse to claim revenge against OZ.

"I have to look her over," Trowa said. He piloted the space shuttle to the last coordinates he could remember before he escaped the Vayeade and set himself adrift.

Trowa unlatched his crash harness and floated over to the computer near the back of the cabin. He removed the thick space suit gloves. He punched in the drift factors and other trajectory factors. Washio-san floated beside him as the computer figured out the direction the Vayeade drifted to. A beeping noise and a slight red glow from the monitor indicated it would be drawn to L-2 gravity mass.

"Good work. Let's go," Washio-san said.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. He got back to piloting the shuttle. Two hours later they were on the far side of L-2, looking at the gleaming, torn hulk of the Gundam Vayeade. "There she is. I'll go get her."

"Be careful. No funny business either. The Red Impulse knows where we are. Got it?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

He fastened his spacesuit back up and checked his gear before he pushed out of the airlock. Trowa made his way to the remains of the blue Gundam and put himself into the pilot's seat.

The Vayeade's hull was totally breached. The electronics were fried, but the mechanical parts were in sound shape. He gave the signal; he shot off the bright green flair. Minutes later, the retrieval arm snaked out and guided the Vayeade and Trowa in the shuttle's cargo bay.

Washio-san piloted the shuttle to L-2, Duo's old stomping ground, and quickly rented a private, zero-G warehouse with equipment. She let Trowa take the Vayeade to the zero-G warehouse after they covered the Gundam from prying eyes.

They both stared up in awe, before they pushed off the ground to drift in front of the Vayeade's crushed face. Trowa's heart skipped a beat, recalling poor Quatre. The Arab boy was so ill from grief that day. He knew he helped Quatre the only way possible, but there were still oceans of pain between Quatre, Heero, and Trowa that lay unaddressed.

"It looks like trash," Washio-san said, lighting a cigarette and turning to Trowa.

"I can have her mostly done before the end of this month," Trowa said.

"That's a long time," she said with a frown on her oval face.

"Not for this kind of repair. I will be working alone, which I recommend for security measures. I don't want to end up in a Romefeller jail. Besides, I'll need to hide out while you finish confirming my identity," Trowa said.

"Trowa Barton, hun? Serving under Lady Une of the Specials?" Washio asked.

Trowa nodded as she kicked off the Vayeade and slowly floated to the floor. She turned to Trowa as she grabbed the porthole. Her head nodded towards the other side of the warehouse and said, "Your room is over there. Don't leave this place without letting me know."

Trowa nodded and pulled himself over to the Vayeade, so he could prioritize the repairs.

* * *

"Are you ready to be transported back to Earth with your Gundam?" Washio-san asked. He nodded, unable to take his eyes off the azure machine. Other than missing Heavyarms' left-handed controls, it had gone well within the one month time frame.

"I can't outfit her for space without some more Gundanium, but she's Earth-worthy. When are we leaving?" Trowa asked, anxious to finish this espionage-sabotage mission and rejoin the others.

"Eight hours. Be ready," she snapped.

Trowa turned to watch her go with fascination. She had believed his whole cover story. She believed he was making sure Doctor Blesh and his information stayed property of the Romefeller Foundation to work his way back into OZ favor. Doctor S was a fantastic liar.

Trowa would try to get some rest. He hoped he wouldn't have that strange dream again. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, and it was affecting him, making him wary.

Washio-san had surreptitiously drugged him one night and tried to pump information out of him. He resisted it successfully, but had blacked out for four days. It was the only explanation he could conceive of to explain the hallucinations he had.

During that drug haze, he dreamed about a man with cold gray eyes that were more intense than Heero's. He murmured things to Trowa in a language he didn't know. The man would give him injections and whisper the one word Trowa understood: resist. The man would slip into the shadows and wouldn't show himself around Washio-san.

When Trowa woke up he told Washio-san about seeing a stranger lurking around the warehouse. She told him a strange story about the founder of the Red Impulse's son and his girl that occurred over three hundred years ago.

They had a Sicilian friend who had tragically died and came back from the dead to protect them. Eventually, the threats to world peace ceased, and they married and had a child. Soon afterwards the zombie friend disappeared and the child grew up to lead the Red Impulse.

It was always strange how their descendants never came to any harm, in spite of the dangerous line of work. All the Washios, no matter what, never came to any harm. They attributed their good luck to the ghost of the Sicilian, who they called 'Condor Joe.' Trowa was surprised such a sophisticated woman spun a ghost story instead of harboring concern about a breach in security. He filed the story away as interesting, but inconsequential.

Trowa snuggled in the Vayeade's seat and strapped in for a nap, when a rumble shook him. The warehouse doors burst open with flames and shrapnel to reveal Sandrock and Deathscythe Hell. Trowa let out a curse in his head and tensed up. He couldn't face Quatre in this Gundam. He had to get back to Earth with the Vayeade or his mission would be blown. He activated the controls and launched upwards as Duo began to hail him.

* * *

"It ends here, Trowa!" Duo said over his computer monitor; his expression was a sneer.

The Deathscythe firmly entrenched itself between Trowa and the hanger bay airlock. Trowa finished wriggling into his flight suit and clamped his helmet into place. Sandrock hadn't moved an inch or tried to hail him once.

Trowa had no choice but to fight his way into space and hope he didn't out-gas before he reached L-5. Washio-san had a shuttle waiting for him. Trowa had plenty of oxygen, but his flight suit wouldn't keep him totally insulated against the vacuum for very long. In addition, one good shot in space, and the Vayeade would explode.

"Duo, get out of my way. You don't understand what I'm trying to do," Trowa ordered.

"All I understand are orders," Duo said. He threw words at Trowa in an attempted to hurt him. "I'm suppose to blow that Gundam up with or without you in it. I suggest you get out of that Gundam. Um... tic-toc, tic-toc... time's a wasting!"

"Catch me," Trowa growled not in the mood to play with Duo or figure out the scientists' crossed orders.

He braced himself and kept an eye on Sandrock, ready to catch him. He blew the hanger bay door open with the beam rifle. The three Gundams were all sucked into space violently. Trowa felt Sandrock hit the Vayeade hard as he clamped the Gundam's hands together. He fired the Vayeade's vernier rockets and slowed them from hitting the L-2 salvage yard.

Duo's playground was the most deadly section of space to navigate in all the colonies. All manner of debris floated around in a loosely confined field similar to an asteroid belt. Trowa pushed Sandrock away from him and launched himself on the shortest coarse to L-5, through the salvage yard.

"You want to see who the better pilot is, eh? You won't beat me on my home turf," Duo said. He saw Duo deactivate his thermal scythe and follow Trowa.

"No! Stop this at once. Trowa! Duo!" Quatre shouted, his face on Trowa's monitor. Sandrock was far enough behind them to not make a difference. "Trowa, this Gundam has caused nothing but tragedy. Please abandon it at once. Professor G and Instructor H think this is not a good way to go about your mission! It will attract Oz attention! Trowa! You're out gassing!"

Trowa ignored Quatre's desperate plea. He brought the Vayeade's hands forward and pushed off a piece of sheet metal. He twisted left to avoid debris.

"Now we're rocking," Duo declared and mimicked Trowa's movements without hesitation.

"Stop it!" Quatre's scream ripped at Trowa's conscience. Trowa slapped the intercom off and focused on weaving through the scrap. Duo was in hot pursuit and threatened to overtake Trowa.

Trowa fired the reverse rockets and kicked a chunk of metal at the Deathscythe. Deathscythe swayed left and lunged for the Vayeade; he narrowly missed. Trowa slapped off his collision warning as well as his thermometer warning. Trowa watched Duo do a barrel role to avoid two hunks of wasted machine as he continued the pursuit.

Trowa pushed forward and dove, nearly missing a chunk of rock. Trowa saw Duo's vernier rockets burst suddenly. Deathscythe Hell caught the Vayeade by the waist, knocking them towards a hunk of sheet metal.

Trowa fired only his left rockets. It caught Duo by surprise because Trowa twisted him easily into a spin, causing Duo to release Trowa's Gundam. Trowa pushed off Deathscythe and hit the rockets full blast when Trowa spotted a slim opening. It was a gorgeous dance that Trowa hated to end; he cleared the field in sync with Duo. Trowa activated his intercom again.

"Go help Quatre," Trowa ordered, firing his vernier rockets towards L-5.

"What the..., Quatre, you little idiot! Are you trying to kill yourself!" Duo shouted.

Duo finally noticed Quatre making his way flawlessly through the salvage yard. Trowa knew that Duo would underestimate Quatre and go to his unnecessary rescue. Trowa saw the flair of Duo's verniers in the opposite direction and started to shiver from the growing cold.

* * *

Trowa seated himself in the space shuttle's cockpit and started the warm up. He had easily found the rented shuttle under his name and received Washio-san's orders. He was to meet her in Yutoland City, on the Japanese island of Yutoland. The rendezvous was scheduled at the Nambu Estate by the Sarruto Sea.

He noticed a reflection in the window. Trowa whirled, flinging a throwing knife. A white feather shuriken knocked it away in a flash. Trowa had his gun pulled seconds too slow. He looked into the most intense pair of gray eyes he had ever seen in his life. They belonged in his dream.

The olive skinned man replaced the hammer on the gun, but kept the barrel planted to Trowa's forehead. The man smiled slowly and rubbed his cleft chin as if trying to figure Trowa out. He looked a little older than Trowa, but his black canvas duster and auburn hair were hopelessly out of date.

"All I want is a ride back to Earth. I won't cross the line if you don't." His Japanese had a softer edge in spite of the low, gravelly quality to his rich voice.

"I'm not going to fight," Trowa said. He lowered the shiny, ancient gun and let Trowa float back to the pilot's seat. The man took the co-pilot's seat with grace and belted in. He crossed his arms and put all of his attention to the little blue Earth.

They were underway for a long time when the ghost story crept back into Trowa's mind. Electricity ran up his spine as he studied the man closer; there was something unnatural about him that wasn't obvious on the surface.

"You look like flesh and blood to me," Trowa ventured. The man's thick eyebrows arched.

"Katerina is a dreamer, Trowa. Dreamers tend to get sidetracked and miss the real picture. They rarely remove the rose colored glasses long enough to achieve their goals," he said.

Normally, being locked alone with a stranger that could get the drop on him would unnerve Trowa. Strangely, he felt as comfortable and safe with the man as he would with Quatre or Heero.

"She's very determined and excessively smart. She could succeed," Trowa said.

"If you weren't working against her," he said. They were silent once more as the Earth grew larger.

"Don't worry about me getting entangled in your little escapade. I don't give a damn what you and Katerina have planned," he said.

"Joe?" Trowa asked. His thick eyebrow arched again as he looked directly at Trowa. "Is that what I should call you?" He nodded. "Do you want to travel with me all the way to Yutoland City? I have a feeling you know the way."

"You trust me that much?" Joe asked with a wry smirk.

"We don't know each other. Best keep in plain sight on both accounts," Trowa said as Joe nodded his approval. "I have some friends I have to see before we go."

* * *

Trowa found the new safe house with the usual rigmarole the Gundam pilots used to keep each other safe. This time it was a country farmhouse outside Prague. It was the most picturesque place they had ever had, other than the Winner's Holdings. Trowa was struck by the thought that they were driving up to a scene out of _Wuthering Heights_ or _Madame Bovary_.

Trowa looked over in the semi-cab to where Joe sat bolt upright with eyes firmly shut. He had been meditating the whole two hour drive through the evening, which suited Trowa. Trowa did admit a burning curiosity about the man. The drive to the tiny Japanese island of Yutoland would be incredibly long. Conversation would be inevitable, just like his travels with Heero.

Trowa watched Heero step out of the cabin and signal him to the canvas tent that had been set up to hid the other Gundams. On top of the canvas was a lot of foliage and small metal scraps used to throw off radar.

"Joe? Joe," Trowa called. His eyes flew open with a start. "I didn't mean to disturb your dream."

"I don't dream any more. Just a lot of dusty images that haven't learned to leave me alone. Where are we?" Joe asked.

"Outside of Prague. You ever been?" Trowa asked, turning off the semi.

"Yeah. Plenty," he replied. They hopped out of the cab. Heero walk up, eating a banana. He was dressed in an Oz uniform. He gave Trowa one of his 'you better have a damn good explanation for this' with his Persian blues. Whether it was for the Vayeade, Duo and Quatre, or Joe, Trowa had no idea.

"Joe, Heero. Heero, Joe," Trowa detested making introductions. They both nodded and postured like two tom cats getting ready to mark their territory.

"Barton. House. Now," Heero growled at him, casting a glance at what should have been Heavyarms under the canvas. He complied, knowing he had better curtail any more interference in this mission.

Obviously, the scientists had mixed their signals again. Trowa walked in the door and spotted the others at the breakfast table. Duo got up and stalked over to Trowa. He let the punch happen and fell back on his rump.

"You little scum. Where the hell do you get off, Trowa? I swear you really are working for the enemy!" Duo shouted.

"Duo, stop it! I'm sure he has a perfectly good explanation," Quatre said, rushing to help Trowa to the sofa.

Quatre quickly brought Trowa an ice pack and held it to his new welt as the other three crowded around. Quatre's hurt expression cried out to him for answers. Trowa owed it to him and Heero to explain about the Vayeade. Duo could take a leap as far as Trowa was concerned. As for Wufei, Trowa just wanted him out of his hair.

"Yeah, start with the lip flapping, Barton," Duo said, crossing his arms. Trowa told them a brief version of what had happened up until the race through the salvage yard. A shadow stretched over them. They looked to the doorway where the dark stranger leaned a shoulder against the door jamb and rested his hand on the other side.

"I can't stand it out there any longer. I'm not a fan of the sunlight," Joe explained. Trowa beckoned him in and drew a few drapes.

Joe removed his sunglasses and looked the others over with that uncanny, arctic gaze. Wufei stepped forward with a glare, Duo backed into the coffee table, and Quatre was swept behind Heero in a protective gesture. Those aqua eyes of Quatre's glazed over; his face clenched in a painful expression. Trowa knew Quatre's empathy took in something that shook him up horribly.

"Why don't you take this opportunity to get cleaned up, Joe. What room am I in?" Trowa asked, anxious to get Joe away from Quatre.

"You're in the single. Last on the left," Duo finally answered numbly.

"You can use my things. I won't mind," Trowa said, pointing down the hall. The moment he disappeared and the shower began to run, Trowa was besieged by Duo.

"Who's the cowboy?" Duo asked with a sneer.

"A friend. He's totally neutral in the war. He's harmless... at least to us," Trowa said, taking Quatre by the arms. He made Quatre sit beside him on the sofa; Trowa knew if he could convince the head of the coven, the body would follow.

Trowa looked directly into those eyes and found what he was looking for under the dazed expression: implicit faith. Trowa said, "Trust me. When have any of you not been able to rely on me?"

They were all silent as Quatre nodded and flashed one of his becoming smiles with hesitation. Something about Joe had really shaken him, but his trust in Trowa won out over his fear.

"How can I help you, Trowa?" Quatre asked.

"Quatre, the biggest help would be to stay away from me for another week or two. I should be finished with my mission by then. This Red Impulse group is a real threat. I don't need them spooked right now; I'm so close," Trowa said. He looked disappointed, but mollified. Heero sat beside Trowa with a quirky smile.

"Don't tell me you're beginning to follow my advice. Following your emotions?" he asked. Trowa nodded and stood up with a stretch.

"Just this once at least. Joe is... something different. I think we're a lot alike," Trowa said, losing his train of thought as Duo stalked off.

"Well, you can hang out with weird creeps if you want. I've got work to do," Wufei said, shaking his head at Trowa. He had always payed attention to Quatre's intuition. No doubt that was Wufei's reason for a hasty retreat.

Joe came out wearing nothing but jeans. They tried not to gawk at his excessively marred flesh. Countless old bullet wounds decorated his torso with massive burn scars across his shoulder blades and abdomen. Seeing him so unconcerned made Trowa even that more curious. Joe pulled on a red tee-shirt and went to the kitchen. Trowa got up and took his own shower.

He got dressed, trying hard to ignore the heavenly aroma coming down the hall. Trowa entered the kitchen to see four pairs of eyes glued on his guest as the man checked the stove for what smelled like Italian food. Joe had found the one weakness of all Gundam pilots, good food. What amazed Trowa was Joe and Duo conversing in a sing-song language he assumed was Italian. Joe laughed suddenly.

"Americans! All of you are crazy," Joe declared.

"Not me, man," Duo protested with a smirk. They had switched back to Japanese.

"I hope he just told you the recipe," Heero said, not removing his eyes from the stove.

"No. We were trading little, old nun stories. Sister Helen was a saint. But boy... he had it rough for about a year," Duo said, staring at the stove with rapt fascination.

"It was fair punishment. I stole a car, credit cards, and a gun when I was fourteen. When my guardian got me back from the police I cursed him in three languages," Joe said.

"What did he do to you?" Wufei asked, joining the group now.

"He slapped me. I was locked in my bedroom for three days before he gave me a choice. I went to the nuns. When I complied to his ideals, seven months later, he sent for me again," Joe said.

"Geeze, what a bastard," Duo said, watching Joe chop salad.

"Not really. He and my adoptive siblings were Japanese. I was going through culture shock and home sickness. I needed the time with God to sort things out and get to know the direction my life was to take. His punishments never really taught me much. I was still excessively disobedient for the rest of my life. There. What do you boys want for dessert?"

Duo rattled off a list in the same language he and Joe shared exclusively. Joe smirked and went back to the refrigerator. Trowa traded looks with Wufei, Heero, and Quatre at the odd way Joe referred to his life, as if it had been over for a very long time.

To be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

Masquerade: Part 3

Trowa awoke suddenly and peered out into the thick fog. He was wrapped in Joe's black duster. They were on the ferry to Yutoland Island. They were both still in the semi's cab. It was four thirty in the morning, but Joe was alert. Wary was Trowa's revised opinion.

"Fifteen minutes. I'll part company from you and check out the old townhouse attached to the Nambu Estate. We'll meet two days later and I'll give you any information I can get my hands on," Joe said.

"Why are you helping me suddenly? Why get involved after years of atrophy?" Trowa asked.

"My friends, Ken and Jun, would be ashamed to think of what has happened to their children. We used to fight against everything she has become. I realized it's time I've finished my obligation to the Washio clan and go home to my parents," he said. Trowa trembled and met Joe's eyes. "It's not as painful as your blond friend perceives.

"Is that what Quatre felt? Your... death?" Trowa asked.

"Yes. It was a horrific death, but it was necessary. Many lives were saved," Joe said.

"What are you going to do after Washio-san and the Red Impulse is destroyed?" Trowa asked.

"I'll go to my parents. I've missed them terribly," Joe said.

"I never knew my parents. What was it like?" Trowa asked.

"Wonderful. To think that all of your flesh and soul are knitted together by the love of two separate creatures. It's amazing," Joe said. "They made a mistake and tried to defect. The organization they worked for sent an assassin. They were killed, but I lived... barely. I was eight years old. I've found forgiveness in my heart for them and want to see them again. I want to let them know I forgive them and love them."

Trowa nodded, looking at his refection, wondering who he looked like. Joe chuckled and said, "I'm worn out. Seeing you and your friends brought back memories. I realized that I've been staying for something that has grown away from me. I may as well help you do some good before I leave. Ken and Jun would want that. Here."

He handed Trowa a slender, long barreled gun with a sharp crescent piece above the handle. Joe said, "It's my old air-gun. One day, try it out. You might like it. I won't need it anymore." Trowa clutched it to his chest as Joe opened the semi's door. "By the way, until this is all finished, keep that air-gun with you at all times. It may save your life."

"Thank you," Trowa said.

"I'll get your breakfast and explain how it works. It's very complicated, but you'll catch on," he said. Trowa hadn't even realized that his stomach was rumbling.

* * *

"Ma'am," Trowa answered her final question about his adventure, leaving out the parts about the other Gundam pilots and his traveling companion. Washio-san and he were in a lavish study, sipping cognac in the middle of a stormy afternoon. Cherry blossoms waved against the dark sky. "Then I arrived," Trowa finished.

"Good. We have a special surprise for you. My other associate has decided to change our plans," she said. She offered Trowa a cigar that he promptly refused.

The petite, graceful woman took out a cigarette and lit it as she removed a computer disk. "While you were in the Oz asylum for your amnesia, one of the Gundam pilots made an enemy we were able to recruit. He's very talented in his own right and is eager to become a proper Gundam pilot. It would seem you're both are seeking revenge against Oz."

"I was under the impression I was to be the Vayeade pilot?" he asked, impassive on the outside, but wary over the new development.

"You are to be the Vayeade pilot, but we were able to resurrect Mercurius as well. It sustained less damage. Within two weeks, with round the clock attention, it will be fixed," Washio-san said.

Trowa nodded, recalling Quatre's description of the condition he had left the red Gundam in. Quatre was more concerned with Heero's welfare at the time, so his eyewitness account stopped abruptly at it burning uncontrollably. She smiled at Trowa and said, "I hope you like water."

Trowa quirked an eyebrow and waited. She said, "Get ready to load your Gundam up. We're going to the headquarters of the Red Impulse. Crescent Coral."

* * *

"It's amazing," Trowa said, watching the sea life float by. They were deep under the Sarruto sea in a cylinder-shaped base that was hidden beneath a man-made coral reef. Washio-san had told him that with modern technology they were able to resurrect this antiquated battle platform and update it into something truly formidable. It, being under the sea, wouldn't be detected. Everyone was more concerned with space colonies anyway.

"I call this the do-jo. Please have a seat while I go get the Mercurius pilot," she said.

Trowa sat on one of the three wooden benches in front of the plate window. He hated the stark white room, but waited patiently.

"Trowa Barton?" a man asked. He was tall and thin. He walked up to Trowa and held out his hand. Trowa rose and shook his hand.

"My name is Clark Trant. It seems we both have issues with Oz and the Gundam pilots. You'll find the Crossbone Vanguard will help you achieve those goals," Trant said.

"It'll be good to have help. So what is your experience anyway?" Trowa asked.

"I actually flew the Wing Zero and fought one of the Gundam pilots named Duo Maxwell," Trant said, his eyes narrowed. Trowa fought hard to kept his face schooled. If this man knew Duo's identity, it meant Duo and the other pilots were in terrible danger.

* * *

"The Red Impulse has already developed assassination plans for Relena Peacecraft and Treize Khushrenada. I wish I could oversee to him personally," Trant said with a lopsided smirk. He sipped on a cup of coffee in the private lounge of the Crescent Coral base. Trowa sipped on his own morning coffee and shook his head.

"Those plans don't concern you," Trowa chided lightly. For the most part, Trowa got along with Clark Trant. From time to time, the man would show his fanaticism. Especially, when it came to the subject of Duo Maxwell and the Gundams.

"We'll need these Gundams to hold the peace until the shift of power is made to the Crossbone Vanguard. That will be our concern. Understand?" He asked. Trowa nodded.

"I heard the leader of the Crossbone Vanguard and the Red Impulse are getting together to inspect our progress in two days. I've always hate inspections," Trowa said, trying to lead the man for more information.

"You were one of the unlucky ones who served under Lady Une, right? I heard she was harsh. These guys aren't military so it should be easy. Washio-san scheduled it for late afternoon. Let's go look at the itinerary and then we can make some plans," Trant suggested. Trowa nodded and followed the older man out of the lounge.

* * *

Trowa watched Joe nurse a whiskey in the darkened corner of the 'Jazz Box'. It was a somber, low-key bar with a sultry atmosphere. Trowa felt as if he had just stepped into a film noir as he listened to the soft torch music in the background.

Joe motioned to a waitress. He ordered two whiskeys. After Trowa was served, Joe slid a disk over to his side of the cozy table. It gleamed in the candlelight, but Trowa made out the words 'Fuzzy's Anniversary'.

"Happy birthday, Trowa. Its the last copy of the Gundam solvent that started this off. I destroyed the rest that I found at the Nambu estate. Blesh and his daughter disappeared out of the Red Impulse's grasp and Romefeller's. It looks like the Gundams are safe... for now," Joe said. Trowa slid the disk back over to Joe.

"I need a favor. Send it to Heero Yuy and tell him that the Red Impulse is going to make an attempt on Mister Khushrenada and the Queen. He'll take care of the rest. Also, there will be a big inspection in two days. They plan on sending me and Trant back into space," Trowa said. Joe took the disk and put it in his suit coat pocket.

"There is more you want?" Joe asked. Trowa nodded his head. Joe lit a cigarette and took in the sights around them. "This used to be a go-go club. Best bar in all of Yutoland City. My friends and I use to hang out here a lot."

"I can't imagine this was a go-go club," Trowa said. Joe smiled fondly. Trowa listened to him reminisce for a few moments before he drained his drink. Joe ordered two more.

"Oh yeah, before we go any further; do you know of a place called Crescent Coral?" Trowa asked. His olive skin blanched; it was all the answer Trowa needed. "Its where Washio-san has us training. They've made it into the Red Impulse's headquarters."

"I want to stop her," he said, gulping his whiskey. Trowa followed suit and nodded.

"Good. The last favor I need from you is to help me destroy it while the Crossbone and the Impulse are there in two days," Trowa said.

"Count on it," Joe said.

* * *

"Trant is practicing on the Zero-Two simulation," Trowa said, not looking up to see Washio-san. He fought the urge to flinch as she put her hands on his shoulders and put her lips next to his ear. Her lilac and tobacco scent overpowered his nose.

"You know, tomorrow morning is the inspection. This is the real thing. After the Crossbone gives their approval, you and Trant will head to space again and receive your orders," she said.

Trowa turned and stood, putting his chair between them. Her milky, jade eyes sparkled with glee. She said, "Make sure you're flawless tomorrow." Trowa nodded, calculating how long it would be to get the Vayeade armed.

She nodded, giving Trowa a wave as she sauntered out of the small practice room. Trant climbed out of the large black box and headed off for the dorms. Trowa went to hanger bay where Vayeade and Mercurius rested. Trowa had to ensure that Vayeade still had the shut down codes for the Mercurius programed in before his plans for tomorrow.

* * *

Trowa waited in the hanger bay next to Trant. They were dressed in the scarlet uniforms of the Red Impulse, only Trowa had Joe's gun in his holster rather than a regulation firearm. The Mercurius and Vayeade stood behind them majestically. Washio-san walked into the hanger bay with seven older men and one younger woman following her.

"Queen Beryl III, this is Trowa Barton and Clark Trant. Both former Oz pilots of top caliber," Washio-san said to the young woman.

"And these are genuine Gundams? Wonderful. I'm anxious to see them perform," she said, looking up at the red and blue Gundams.

"This way, Highness," Washio-san said, waving her hand towards the back door. The visitors all filed through the door, but Washio turned to Trowa and Trant. "We'll be watching on a monitor in the control center. Don't leave Coral Crescent air space."

"Yes, ma'am," They answered in unison. She left through the door at the back. Trant went over to the Mercurius and gave Trowa a thumbs up. The man grabbed the lift cable and mounted up in the red Gundam. Trowa grabbed his lift cable, but paused when he saw a navy and kidney colored flash by the door the visitors left through.

He kept his face schooled, realizing it was Joe in a strange costume with large dark wings and a dark blue visor. Trowa nodded to the Joe before watching him dart through the door and close it. Joe was on his way to do his portion of the mission. He was to seal off Crescent Corral and blow it up with the Red Impulse and Crossbone Vanguard leaders on it. Trowa's job was the simple one, take out the Mercurius and Vayeade along with Trant.

Trowa mounted up the Vayeade and followed Trant to the man-made island. The Gundams turned and faced one another. Trowa waited for Joe's signal. Trant's face flared on Trowa's screen.

"Barton, you know Washio-san never really trusted you. She figured out you are a traitor. Don't try anything!" Trant warned at Trowa's glower. "I already took off the override commands you had programmed in. After I'm finished with you, I'll hunt down the rest of those Gundam pilots. Yeah... Washio-san figured it out, that you're Zero-Three. Now you're going to pay. After all, the Crossbone only needs one Gundam."

"So it's a fight you want?" Trowa asked coolly, impassively. He crossed his arms and studied the man's intense face. Trowa's reflexes came to bear as the Mercurius came charging for him. Trowa moved the Vayeade hard left and turned the Gundam around to face the Mercurius as it passed by. He fired the beam cannon. The Mercurius's shields deflected the energy.

Trowa cursed silently; he couldn't afford this distraction. The Mercrius charged at him again. The Gundams traded mechanical punches and kicks. Trowa was feeling jarred. A rumbling from the island below them knocked the battling Gundams apart.

Trowa took the opportunity and fired at the Mercurius's cockpit as the whole world shook. Trowa hit the red Gundam squarely. Trant's voice was choked off when the Gundam exploded into a fiery ball. The Vayeade fell backward; Trowa was almost knocked unconscious. He quickly shook it off and unstrapped himself from the Vayeade.

He slapped the button for the self destruct and rapidly exited the Vayeade. The island was trembling violently around him. Explosions bubbled around Trowa with thick smoke blinding him. A vibrating at his hip caught his attention.

Trowa drew Joe's gun and looked at the handle. He slid the hollow handle of the gun open. He was surprised to see a red disk beeping and shaking at him. Trowa turned to his right; the beeping got more intense. He realized Joe had slipped a homing beacon in the air-gun. He ran towards the increasingly rapid beeping to find the edge of the island. A wave of relief swept Trowa when he spotted a small boat tied to the shore.

A horrible jarring explosion knocked Trowa to his knees. He knew instinctively it was the Vayeade. The cacophony around him paused for a moment. The island started to lurch to Trowa's left. He quickly dove for the motor boat and and cranked the engine.

Trowa didn't look back at the sinking island as he guided the boat towards Yutoland island. He breathed a sigh of relief for a moment. His mood shifted towards sorrow as he looked down at his inherited air-gun.

* * *

Trowa fell back on his twin bed. He hadn't even changed out of his Red Impulse uniform. He took Joe's air-gun and put it on the nightstand between his bed and the other empty twin bed.

He sat up, in spite of his weariness when Duo came into the room with his long, damp hair dangling in loose clumps around his shoulders. The American was bundled up in a thick bathrobe; he was whirling a hair brush against his hair.

"Trowa, I didn't know you came in. You look like hell. The bath is free, better get one before Wu-man gets back," Duo said. Trowa stood up and started to peel off the crimson outfit. "Hey, were is Joe? Did he get off safe?"

"Yeah, Duo. He made it home. By the way, he wanted you to have this," Trowa said, fishing around in his pocket. He handed Duo a moonstone and silver rosary.

"Wow. This is nice. I'll have to thank him," Duo said with a smile as he examined the religious strand in his hands.

"He knew you'd like it," Trowa said.

"Trowa, are you sure you aren't mad at me? I really want you to know I'm sorry I haven't trusted you like I should. Trust is a hard thing and I..."

"Duo, don't worry about it. We're fine," Trowa said.

"Oh, there is another mission. It came in while you were coming back from Yutoland. It's an Oz installation that needs sabotaging. That Lady Colonel will be there, so I'll take it if you're not up for it. I'll ask Wu-man and..."

"No, I'll go with you. It's my duty to destroy Oz," Trowa said. "Let me get cleaned up and we'll go."

End


End file.
